


Reclamation

by mitchpell



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Rating: NC17, pre-SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchpell/pseuds/mitchpell
Summary: Recovery takes time; Clint and Laura have learned this the hard way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> According to the Marvel Cinematic Universe Wiki timeline, Clint was already a member of S.H.E.I.L.D by the age of 27. In my opinion, Cooper looked to be somewhere between 11 and 14 during Age of Ultron, which would make Clint around 33 when he was born. Consequently, Cooper should actually not be born until well after this fic takes place. But I felt he was pivotal to the story, so I put him in there.
> 
> Written in response to the [be_compromised](http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/) Valentine's Day Promptathon.
> 
> Special thanks to [AlphaFlyer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaFlyer) for all the help and suggestions as my beta reader.

Clint woke with a start, pulled from a restless sleep by a nightmare rendition of the explosion. 

Even now, a little over a month later, this was still a common occurrence, the dream-scape replay of that day. The players changed and events were jumbled and out of sequence, but it always ended the same way - the way it had actually occurred, with a warning shout and then the room erupting. At least this time, though he had been pulled from sleep suddenly, he didn’t feel the jolt.

The light from Laura’s bedside lamp and the ever-present whine of tinnitus greeted him as he came to. The lingering effects of the concussion still left him sensitive to light at times. But the light was dim enough to be tolerable, which probably meant Laura was straining her eyes in an attempt to accommodate him. The tinnitus…well, the hope that it would subside had been mostly replaced with coping mechanisms that would allow him to live with it.

Laura was sitting up in bed, a book splayed open in her lap. Her hair was down and pooling around her shoulders. She was wearing her glasses and his slightly oversized Bon Jovi t-shirt. She didn’t sleep topless anymore, hadn’t since Cooper was born. She’d said sleeping in nothing but her underwear was sexual, and that it just didn’t feel right being sexual in front of the baby. 

She looked down at him now and smiled as she ran her fingers carefully through his hair, mindful to watch the still healing lacerations as she said something. He could hear her, but her words were unintelligible between the damage caused by the explosion and the tinnitus. He shook his head slightly, indicating he hadn’t understood and causing her to frown.

She glanced towards the baby monitor and then the door and he knew she was trying to judge how loud she could be without waking Cooper. Not that it would help Clint much. A louder voice would allow him to hear more, but did little to help with clarity. Luckily, the doctors had assured him that the window of opportunity had not yet closed, and there was still a chance that time and care could upgrade his hearing loss from ‘severe’ to ‘moderate’. 

Clint reached out and took her hand, pulling her attention back to him. 

“It’s ok,” he told her, his voice sounding muffled and the vibrations rumbling inside his head.

“Sorry,” he read on her lips. 

She had tears in her eyes as she once again carded her fingers through his hair. He replied by drawing her hand towards him and pressing it to his lips. She cupped his face and ran her thumb across his cheek, before pulling away and turning back to her book. 

Clint watched her for a moment as she attempted to compose herself behind the guise of reading. The last six months had been hell for her, from his deployment pulling him away during the last months of her pregnancy and the birth of their son, to the mission that had almost claimed his life, not to mention the struggle afterwards to care for an infant and her PTSD laden husband. At the best of times, he’d treated her poorly, even though he knew she was only trying to help. At the worst of times, shitty was too generous a word for his behaviour. But she’d soldiered on with more strength and determination than most Marines. She deserved better and he decided that starting right then he was going to try and give it to her.

Clint found her leg under the covers. The skin there was prickly as caring for a toddler and an invalided husband had left little time for self-maintenance. He followed the curve of her thigh up to her hip bone, tickling the skin with feather light touches. She flinched away from him as he ran his fingers over the sensitive line of her stomach just above her hipbone, before coming lower and tugging lightly at the elastic of her panties. He looked up at her confused face as he let go, allowing the fabric to slap back into place.

He recognized his name on her lips and read the question on her face. By way of an answer, he took hold of her panties again and tugged at them more gently. She hesitated briefly before setting her book aside and lifting her hips to help him slide them off. He made short work of his boxers and turned to pull her down beside him. He was met by a hand on his shoulder, pushing him with a firm gentleness back down onto the bed. He was surprised; Laura didn’t normally like to be on top, but he didn’t protest as she straddled him.

She simply sat on top of him for a moment, searching his face for signs of discomfort or uncertainty. He didn’t blame her. He had been so withdrawn both in the hospital and since coming home, turning away from even the smallest gestures of intimacy. He rose up to meet her in reassurance, taking her head in his hands and pulling her in for a deep hungry kiss. 

She met him in kind, devouring him as much as he was her, before pulling back and slowing it down to something more intimate. When their kiss ended they stayed together, her forehead resting against his, breathing in each other’s breath. He pulled back first, giving her one last quick kiss before he gently lay back down. She repositioned herself over top of him and without hesitation grabbed his cock with a firm hand.

He entered her easily; both of them were more than ready for each other after months of war, a baby and then their respective recovery having kept them apart. He reached up as she rocked against him and slid his hands under her t-shirt, traveling up her smooth skin before coming around to grasp her swollen breasts. She responded by pulling the shirt off, allowing him to see as well as feel her gorgeous, maternity-enhanced body. The rocking motion of her thrusts threatened to make him nauseous, but he pushed through it, focusing on the pleasure of her rather than any pain in his head. Neither one of them lasted long, time and need bringing first her and then him to a quick climax.

As the last of the tremors passed through them, Clint looked up and met her eyes.

“You okay?” she asked.

He smiled in return. “Oh yeah.”

Laura shook her head at him in disbelief, a smile playing on her own lips before everything shifted. The smile disappeared and tears, long pent up, began to flow.

“Laura?”

She shook her head in response, refusing to meet his gaze as she started to pull away. He grabbed her arm to stop her and pulled her down on top of him instead. He held her there, rubbing circles on her back as she cried into his chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” was the only thing he could think to tell her when the worst of her sobs had subsided.

He felt her shaking her head, though her words were all but lost to him as a rumble against his chest.

“We’ll be alright,” he promised in response, knowing that to be truth if nothing else.

They stayed there for another minute, him holding her with one hand and running his fingers through her hair with the other, before she sat up. They were a mess of tears and sex and the attempt she made to clean them up with her t-shirt was all but in vain.

“Shower?” he suggested.

Laura smiled but any reply was cut off as she looked sharply towards the baby monitor. Clint followed her gaze, the five red lights telling him that Cooper was now awake and very unhappy. 

“I’ll get him,” he said as he started to pull on his underwear.

Laura grabbed his forearm in a halting manner. 

“You…an’t…ed him,” she all but shouted as she pulled back on her panties. “Get …ower, by…time…done…you can…urp him.”

“Laura…”

Clint’s protest halted her and she turned to look at him with something between expectancy and hopefulness. 

“Just…” He faltered a moment under her gaze, his lack of participation before this point making him question his role within his own family. And yet … 

“Let me bring him to you? You can feed him in here, I’ll burp him, and we’ll put him back to bed together.”

Laura’s eyes glistened with tears that threatened to fall anew as she smiled. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed before climbing out of bed to stand beside her. He took her face in his hands once again, wiped each of her tear stained cheeks with his thumb, and kissed her gently on the lips before slipping out the door to get his son.


End file.
